


Her Own Mind

by Silex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bestiality, F/F, Horcruxes, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 22:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: The opening of the Chamber of Secrets was the beginning of the end. What conspired afterwards is irrelevant, all that matters is that Voldemort has prevailed and Ginny is a captive of his. His reasons for keeping her are unknown to her, but his pet Nagini has ideas of her own, ones that Ginny can't begin to imagine.





	Her Own Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmaryllisBlack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaryllisBlack/gifts).



> I'm most comfortable writing dark fics, though I've never tired my hand at one set in the world of Harry Potter before. I hope that this, my first attempt is enjoyable.

Ginny didn’t know why he was keeping her alive, didn’t want to know. It had been months since she’d heard anything about any of the others, just over a year since her enthrallment and capture. Draco often came by the dungeon to boast, that was how she knew how long it had been.

Today he came to tell her that Harry had been caught, the muggleborn too, as he put it. She knew he was talking about Hermione, but she tried not to think about it, because according to Draco poor, brave, Hermione had tried to take her own life rather than be captured, but had failed. Draco claimed that she was now a prisoner at Malfoy Manor and was…

It was too terrible to think about, but Draco kept talking on and on, listing what had happened to friends, family, strangers, just boasting and trying to make her cry or scream or rage. She fought not to do anything, not to let any sound or expression betray her pain and horror because that would be giving him what he wanted and the least she could do was deny him that. It was all she could do.

Much of what he was saying had to be lies, there was no way he could know the details of the gruesome death of Dumbledore at Snape’s hands because it was impossible for him to have been there, impossible for anyone to have been there if what he was saying was accurate. It had to be a lie, he was lying to hurt her, lying to break her.

But she refused to be broken, not by Draco.

She could remain defiant.

She would survive.

She could escape.

She might as well imagine the bars vanishing and her being able to walk through the old castle’s walls while she were dreaming up fantasies like that.

There was no escape, not when she was the prisoner of Voldemort himself.

He claimed that he was keeping her as a reward, letting her live despite coming from a treasonous family, because she had been so instrumental in his return, she had been the one to open the Chamber of Secrets, release the basilisk and set him on the path to regaining his body.

All the events had been set in motion by her. That was the guilt she had to live with, something that Draco didn’t, couldn’t know.

That was why all the horrible things he said weren’t enough to make her beg him to stop, because they were the same things she told herself, but also that it was all her fault. She was her own personal Dementor, tainting every happy memory she had, every thought of her friends and family with the fact that she was the one who had killed them all.

Draco didn’t know because Voldemort would never tell anyone that, not even his most trusted servants, which Draco wasn’t and likely never would be.

She told him as much and he slapped her in the face.

Bound as she was, he assumed that she wouldn’t be able to retaliate.

He assumed wrong.

She spat in his face, watched him go from pale to pallid to flush as he realized what she’d done and rage set in.

“Why you little…”

He drew his wand, raised it.

_Crucio!_

Everything was pain.

She screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

It would never end.

Over it all she could hear Draco laughing, taunting her.

And all she could do was scream.

Maybe this was the end, the pain would drive her to madness, finally break her and whisk her to place where not even Voldemort could hurt her.

She wouldn’t ride the pain out like she tried to with more mundane suffering, she would let it carry her away.

Away from suffering, away from sanity.

Unfortunately rescue came from a most unexpected source. After all this time, all his tormenting, Draco had finally taken things a step too far.

A panicked scream.

Draco fell to the stone floor with a thud.

The great venomous snake, Nagini had arrived, possibly at her master’s bidding. She wrapped her muscular, coiling length around Draco’s legs, bound them together and held him pinned under her writhing, toxic green bulk. She stared at him with black eyes, cold, empty voids. The snake unhinged her jaw, revealing rows of little curved fangs, all dripping poison, but wide as her mouth stretched it was her eyes that looked like they could swallow everything.

Ginny’s father had collected muggle books and one of her favorites was by Stephen Hawking muggle Arithomancer. She didn’t understand much of the book, but it fascinated her, how muggles could figure out all these things without having magic as an explanation. Instead they used other, strange and exotic sounding terms. It was like reading about spells that she’d never be able to cast. Muggle magic was how she thought of it. Hawking described about things called black holes, how they devoured everything, not even light could escape them, not even time. They terrified and fascinated her.

And that was what Nagini’s eyes were like.

An infinite appetite.

Draco screamed and begged and cried.

Pleaded for mercy as though he was talking to Voldemort himself.

And, though he didn’t know it, in a way he was.

She’d used a diary belonging to Voldemort, confessed her deepest secrets to him and he’d returned the favor, telling her secrets too terrible to comprehend, just to see how she would react.

His Horcruxis, the diary was one, it had been intended as a gift for Draco and how she wished that he’d been the one to receive it. But instead, Voldemort had seen to it that the little, parasitic piece of his soul went to her instead.

Nagini was one as well.

That was why the snake was always with him, why she was so loyal to him.

Why she was so full of knowing and evil.

The black, forked tongue flicked against Draco’s face, fangs inches from his throat, closer and closer and…

Nagini released him, reared up to her full height and watched as he scrabbled backwards, not daring to take his eyes off of her.

Those horrible, hungry eyes.

The snake didn’t give chase, instead she continued to stare as Draco retreated and well after he vanished from sight.

Slowly, languidly she lowered herself to the floor.

Ginny watched in mute horror as Nagini slithered towards her.

The snake usually preferred warm places, kept away from the cold of the dungeon, but even there she could find warmth.

Not even bothering to fix Ginny with her void-filled eyes, Nagini coiled around her leg, inching upwards until she’d wrapped her full length around her body, icy coils looped heavily around her legs, loosely around her belly, between her breasts, over her shoulders, around her neck.

Nagini assumed her usual, favorite position, head pressed against the crook of Ginny’s neck, tongue flicking in and out against her hair and occasionally her skin.

The snake was fascinated by her hair, would weave in and out of it as she warmed her body.

Voldemort always referred to Nagini in feminine terms, though at first Ginny had been unable to believe it, assumed that it was because the snake was a pet, that he was trying to distance himself from the bit of himself that was trapped in an animal.

But Ginny heard him talk to the snake in Parseltongue and listened as Nagini replied.

The snake may have been a part of him, utterly loyal to him, but she had a mind and a will of her own.

There were times she wouldn’t reply or times when she would speak out of turn.

She was the only one of his servants that Voldemort would tolerate dissent from.

He had no choice - she was him after all.

The thought made Ginny’s stomach churn, as did the snake’s icy touch.

When Nagini touched her, warmed herself against her body, it was the same as Voldemort touching her.

Which he never did.

All his torments were inflicted by word and wand, never by hand. Draco’s slap had been the first human contact she’d had since her capture.

Nagini shuddered, scales rustling against each other like a death rattle. She did it to warm herself faster and soon enough Ginny felt the weight around her grow warm, felt the snake relax slightly.

A hiss that could have been a sigh.

The snake’s tongue flicked against the side of her face, tasting the salt of her tears.

She lifted the wedge of her head to look at Ginny, unblinking eyes staring into her, through her.

There was a piece of Voldemort in the snake and Voldemort had once possessed her through his diary. Was the snake looking for that piece, testing for the taste of it with her tongue?

Had Voldemort left some mark on her that only the snake could see? Not the Dark Mark that branded the Deatheaters, but something deeper, uglier?

Her tears fascinated the snake, just like her hair.

The coils between her breasts and across her chest shifted looped around and squeezed, forcing the air from her lungs in a terrified gasp.

Then they loosened, shifted again and squeezed again, more gently this time, pressing against yielding flesh. Scales rubbed against her breasts, glass smooth in one direction, rough and catching in the other. The snake used her body to explore Ginny’s, her breasts and belly and hips holding special fascination. This time Nagini seemed utterly enthralled by examining the slight flare of her hips, the curves leading up to her belly and down to the softness of her thighs.

She was maturing, her body reflected that. Despite her captivity, the spells holding her helpless, Voldemort didn’t neglect her. He saw to it that she was kept clean and fed and didn’t waste away. Her hair had grown long, because Nagini liked it that way, spells rather than hands keeping it in a cascade of braids, their coils suggestive of the snake’s form.

Her breasts had budded, aching and tender, in time growing to the point where they gave Nagini something to wedge herself between, to properly wrap around, like she was doing now, pressing and squeezing.

It was just her seeking warmth, that was what Ginny told herself as the coils around her legs shifted, pressed up higher, forcing her legs apart.

Scales rubbed her, smooth and hard.

She bit her lip, bracing herself for when they rubbed back the other way and painful roughness forced itself against her.

The awaited pain never came.

Instead that coil loosened and another one rose up to take its place, moving in the same direction.

This continued for an unknown amount of time, during which Ginny scarcely dared breathe until a chance shift in position caused the next coil to rub against her at such an angle that she was able to feel the slight bumps of the Nagini’s scales.

She gasped and shuddered involuntarily.

The snake’s head shot up, black eyes met hers, dashing all hope that it had been an accident.

Something sparkled in the void, a certain knowing that made it even worse.

Nagini saw her, saw through her in such a way that she could feel an emptiness gnawing in the pit of her stomach. The snake knew what she was doing.

Coils tightened, squeezed her breasts to the point where it was almost painful.

Almost.

Other coils tightened, the bumps of scales pressing harder and harder, growing slick with her wetness.

“Please,” she begged, “Don’t.”

Because the snake knew and maybe…

Nagini coiled around her throat, tongue flicking across the curve of her collarbones, tasting her sweat, the way her own body was intent on betraying her.

“No, no,” she gasped, tears burning her eyes. She’d never begged Voldemort for mercy, but he’d never done anything like this.

Nagini had a part of him in her though.

Was it that part that made her act in such a way?

Voldemort’s longing enacted through a piece of his soul cut free and put into a monstrous animal?

An animal made monstrous by him?

The slender taper of Nagini’s tail traced circles across her stomach, tickling her, forcing her to twist and squirm, spread her legs just that much further.

Nagini’s tongue continued to flick across her, its slimy touch tasting her body’s treasonous responses.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as Nagini shuddered against her, the scales vibrating against her most sensitive places as the twisting tip of the snake’s tail went lower and lower until it took the place of the coil between her legs.

It flicked back and forth, testing the wetness of her slit, plush and aching with need.

Need that Nagini could sense.

Slowly, carefully, it parted her soft folds, worked its way inside her, inch by inch.

Despite having warmed herself against her, the snake was still cold and feeling that coldness invade, filling her, made Ginny cry out.

She squeezed her legs together which only made it worse, pressing the snake harder against her body.

Deeper and deeper until Nagini found the point where it went from horrifying to painful and Ginny screamed.

The snake stopped her advance for a moment, grew thoughtfully still, making no move to push farther or pull her tail back.

As the initial shock of pain faded Ginny felt herself relax, yet there was a tension remaining, growing as she grew accustomed to the discomfort deep inside her.

Nagini shifted inside her, the tip of her tail doubling back, a coil remaining pressed against that tender place, the threshold of pleasure and pain, as the snake continued to force her way inside, stretching Ginny with coil after coil.

She looked down, past her breasts, past the snake’s scaled coils and down to her belly, watched as it bulged and twitched slightly with Nagini’s movements. Ginny could feel it all, the path the tip of Nagini’s tail was tracing, back out to press against her slit from the outside, squeezing against her clit.

Nagini tightened her grip around Ginny’s stomach, coils pressing from inside and out and she squirmed helpless against them, feeling tension build, filling her like the snake.

Her body was betraying her, begging for release even as she begged Nagini to stop.

Ignoring her words the snake responded to pleas of her body, the growing heat and wetness between her legs, the ach in her clit.

The snake tensed, powerful muscles bracing for action.

Nagini shivered, scales vibrating between her legs, against her, inside her, filling her with movement until her body responded in kind, muscles contracting painfully against the coils filling her, the impossibly muscular length spreading her.

She screamed and cried and begged for release, which Nagini gave her, though not in the way she wanted.

Orgasm wracked her body so intensely that pleasure and agony were indistinguishable.

All the while she stared down at her body in horror until tears blurred her vision and it grew hard to breathe.

Slowly it faded, leaving her feeling numb and filthy from what had conspired. Nagini withdrew her coils inch by inch, leaving her stretched and empty and full of shame.

Satisfied in some indescribable way Nagini slithered away as though nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.

Ginny watched her leave.

Nagini was a snake and a monster.

And a woman.

She knew things that Voldemort never would, never could.

And she could use those things to invent torments that Voldemort could never dream of.

Because otherwise meant the unthinkable, that she had been acting under Voldemort’s will, that he had been watching through her, guiding her actions.

No, it was far easier to think that the snake acted on her own because otherwise meant considering new horrors.

That Voldemort might have had ulterior motives for keeping her alive.

He did confide in her after all, had told her how tiring he found his fawning servant Bellatrix Lestrange.

Why he would tell her such a thing about a woman she didn’t know, would likely never meet, she hadn’t understood.

But now she wondered.

And the wondering made dread fill her heart as Nagini had filled her body.


End file.
